Time For Telling
by Icabu
Summary: *** This is a challenge response to GingerS's quote: "The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one." - Elbert Hubbard *** This is AU *** Johnny Gage's aunt feels the time is right to tell him how his parents met ***
1. Chapter 1

**Summer 1947, Oklahoma**

Sarah Gage cantered her horse across the ranch's expansive meadow. She breathed the grassy smell deeply, as it was the aroma of home. With school now behind her, she set her mind to learning everything about the running of the ranch. She would be ready when the reins to the ranch were handed down to her.

She slowed, nearing the new fence line where the pregnant and nursing mares would stay until the foals were weaned. Sarah would watch this corral closely, personally. She wanted to give the mothers and young the best chance of survival. A weight no doubt left from being the sole survivor of her own birth.

Not that her father and grandparents hadn't raised her lovingly. Her father doted on her – fine clothes, fine schooling. He'd transferred his love of the land to her by taking her with him all over the ranch doing all types of chores and projects – even though she was a girl. Now, it was her turn to give something back to the land that had filled her childhood and youth.

Dismounting, she walked her horse, Rosie, into the shade of a big tree in the meadow. She watched as a ranch hand carefully worked the spiked barbed wire, stringing it along the set posts, creating her outdoor nursery. She didn't know all of the hands' names yet. Some hadn't been back to the main complex since she'd returned from school. With the warm weather they just camped out here in the fields, staying close to their work.

She did not recognize this man. He was much younger than the weathered and grizzled workers that didn't stray far afield. Stripped to the waist, the sun glistened on his tanned back. His muscles rippled, bunching and stretching, under the sheen. Sarah found her herself captivated, watching the man work on her project.

He turned, facing her direction, startling her. His eyes, shaded by the brim of his hat, kept the exact target of his gaze hidden. A change in his stance told her that he'd seen her. Her stomach fluttered as she felt those unseen eyes on her.

Casually, he pulled off his gloves, the sweat-dampened leather holding the shape of his hands as he set them atop the fence post by the coil of wire. Lifting his shirt off another post, he snapped it with a sharp crack. With a flip, it settled over his shoulders, his arms easing into the rolled up sleeves in what appeared to be a well-practiced move executed perfectly.

Her feet, rooted as deeply as the tree beside her, held her fast as the man sauntered towards her. An Indian, she realized. It really shouldn't surprise her since their ranch bordered several reservations. All ranch workers were hand-picked by her father and he only accepted the best. This man's stride appeared confident as he approached, she thought. She began her own inspection.

His dark, slightly too long hair framed his face, hanging down to the base of his neck and flaring at the ends in a light curl under his hat. Sweat beaded on his brow, coursed at his hairline. His face chiseled with the trademark high cheek bones; eyes slit against the glare of the high sun. His color lead her to believe some native god had molded him from the very clay upon which she stood. He wore the roped muscle as easily as his open shirt that displayed them. Only the best – she had to agree.

"Anything I can help you with, ma'am?"

The deep voice suited him. It sounded earthy. She'd watched his Adam's apple bob as he spoke, hoping her head had not nodded along with it.

"Um, no," she said. A little voice in the back of her head kicked her – _make up some reason to be here other than ogling at him_. "Oh. Yes, yes…"

She grabbed Rosie's reins and pulled the horse into her story. "Rosie came up lame. I, um, I pulled a stone from her hoof. I was letting her rest here in the shade." She swallowed hard, her pride going down roughly at being reduced to telling little white lies.

He pulled off his hat, revealing his full mane of glossy black hair and wiped his face with a handkerchief from his back pocket. He replaced both the hat and the handkerchief at the same time. Another choreographed move executed with perfection.

"I can take a look at that hoof for you," he said, stepping up and taking Rosie's reins. He patted the horse gently on the nose. "There, girl."

The reins slipped from Sarah's hand as the scent of him invaded her senses. It wasn't gamey or foul, but wildly masculine. She felt intoxicated, thick headed and stomach quivering. Before she could protest, he had Rosie's foreleg raised, inspecting the hoof pad.

"This one?"

"Yes. That's the one." Sure, why not, Sarah thought. She hoped Rosie would catch on to her ruse and carry it on. She reached up and patted Rosie's neck, leaning against her animal friend for support. "Is there any bruising?" She hated the lie, but the desire to keep him here, keep talking to him, was a stronger pull.

She watched cautiously as he inspected Rosie's hoof, gently brushing away dirt, checking the fit of the shoe. Finally, he eased Rosie's leg down.

"Everything looks in good shape," he answered.

The sideways glance he gave her had a strong hint of disbelief in it, causing her to swallow hard again in a suddenly arid throat.

"Hmmm…" He rubbed his chin. "She does appear to be favoring it a little."

Sarah wanted to hug her Rosie. As Rosie lowered her leg, she settled it on the ground gently, then picked it up just a tad and resettled it. Sarah would reward Rosie for her performance with extra apples and carrots for the whole week – and extra-long rub downs.

"Well, now," he said. "Can't have the owner's daughter walking all the way back to the barn with a lame horse all by herself."

He smiled.

Sarah's pulse galloped. His smile lifted higher on the left side, making it slightly lopsided. It was incredibly…charming. What he'd said finally registered.

"You know who I am?"

He rumbled a short laugh and dipped his head a little.

Sarah smiled, detecting a trace of shyness.

"Not too many women around here, ma'am," he answered. "And you've got a lot of your daddy in you."

"Sarah Gage." She put her hand out to shake on her introduction.

He looked down at her hand, smiled broader. Gently clasping her fingers, he curled her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her proffered hand.

"Ranch hand Bill at your service, Miss Sarah."

"Bill?" Sarah pulled her hand back, slowly, not snapping it back. That was not a name she would have guessed. It did not fit this…wildly charming man. She had expected something like 'Eagle Feather' or 'Charms Ladies With Lopsided Smile'.

"Yes. Bill." He straightened, pulling back a step. "Is that not an agreeable name?"

She shook her head to clear the fog that had drifted in. "No. I mean yes." Getting the correct words out had suddenly become a difficult task for her. "Bill's a fine name." Irritated, she imagined that he thought her a blathering idiot.

"Thank you," he said, still smiling. "I think Sarah is a very fine name, too."

She uprooted her feet and took a step back, thinking that would help clear her head. She reached for Rosie's reins. "Well, Bill. Thank you for looking after Rosie. I'll just take her up to the barn and give her a good rub down."

Bill pulled the reins out of Sarah's reach. "Now, ma'am, your father would have my hide if I'd let his daughter walk alone with a lame mare all the way to the barn." He curled the reins around his hand, patted Rosie's neck. "Never know what kind of trouble might be out there."

"Now that's ridiculous," exclaimed Sarah. She was not a weak house-woman that needed tended to. "I'm perfectly capable of walking back to the barn."

"I've no doubt about that, ma'am. But I'm here so I'm escorting you two ladies back." Bill pulled on Rosie's reins. "Come on, girl. Let's get you home and out of those shoes."

Flustered, Sarah stomped after them. "And stop calling me 'ma'am'. Please."

"Yes, ma'am, Miss Sarah," Bill called over his shoulder.

Sarah huffed along with Rosie between herself and Bill. She stole looks his way and occasionally caught him looking her way. On foot the trip back was longer than she'd expected, but not anything she couldn't handle – even by herself. With her thoughts clouded with tanned skin and roped muscles, she was caught off guard when Rosie reared, snorting and stomping.

"Snake," Bill called, steering the frightened Rosie away from the coiled beast in the grass.

Sarah had never seen Rosie so agitated. The whites of her horse's eyes were huge. Putting her hands on Rosie's neck to help calm her, Sarah then heard the rattling noise from the grass ahead of them. The noise sent Rosie into a panicked fit. She kicked her back legs, reared again. Eyes wild, she snorted and stomped.

Bill shortened the reins and strained to keep the horse calm and move her at the same time, with very little success.

Sarah tried to pull the throat-lash on Rosie's bridle to get her head turned away from the snake. The snake struck, arrowing out of the grass ahead of them, straight at Bill's legs. Rosie jerked out of Sarah's grasp, jumped and twisted, knocking Sarah to the ground. The horse landed a shoed hoof on her leg before prancing away with Bill leaning hard into her front quarters.

Sarah saw the snake slither away, the grass wiggling with its passage. It was huge, at least seven feet. Sarah crawled in the opposite direction a little ways, her skin prickling with dislike for the vile serpent.

"Sarah." Bill was at her side now. "Are you all right?"

"Was that a rattler?" she asked, panting.

"No, just a very irritated Bullsnake. Big one, too." He crouched down. "They vibrate their tail in the grass to make you think they're the poisonous rattler, but they can't do anything more than scratch your skin."

"I think both me and Rosie were believing its bluff." She shivered as the adrenaline left her a little weak and achy.

"Let's get you off the ground and back home," he held out his hands to help her up. "And get Rosie safe in the barn."

He easily pulled her to her feet, but Sarah's stepped on leg shot pain through her. "Oh, ow. Oh. Oh, no."

"Sarah, what happened? What is it?" Bill's easy tone was replaced with serious concern.

Bill's arms held her tight as she held her injured leg off the ground. "Rosie stepped on me. Oooh, ouch."

Setting her gently back on the ground, Bill glanced over to make sure Rosie was still close, then looked into Sarah's face. The pain had drained most of her color and had her brow sweaty and furrowed.

"Which one?" Bill questioned.

"This one." Sarah reached for her right ankle. "Owww."

She hissed and slapped at his hands as he gently probed around her right ankle through her riding boot. "Stop."

Ignoring her, he attempted to pull her boot off her rapidly swelling ankle. He shook his head when it wouldn't budge.

"Noooo!" she yelled, pushing him away with surprising strength.

"Sarah." Bill spoke calmly. "Your leg is swelling in the boot. You'll lose circulation to your foot. I've got to get your boot off."

"No, please. It hurts."

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I know it does. But it'll be much worse if you leave it on." He pulled a large knife out of a sheath in his boot.

Seeing the knife, Sarah tried scooting away.

"Now, now," Bill soothed. "I'll have to cut this boot off. Your leg's too swollen to pull it off."

"No," Sarah cried softly, burying her head in her arms.

Bill went to work cutting her leather riding boot with his sharp Bowie knife. Sarah's gasps of pain tore into him as he sliced through her boot as carefully and gently as he could. When he had it cut from the top to the heel, he eased her foot out.

"Oooh." Sarah nearly fainted seeing her discolored and swelled ankle.

"Sarah, it's okay." Bill eased her down flat; let her collect herself a little. "Can you wiggle your toes?"

"Ow. Did they wiggle?"

"Yeah. Now try your foot. Move your foot."

Sarah hissed, bit her lip, but managed to get her foot to move slightly up and down.

"Good. That's good." He pulled her back up to sit, cradling her. "It's okay. Nothing appears broken, just a bad bruise, likely sprained." He was impressed that she took the whole ordeal so well. He could see that it was a painful injury. At least he'd only had to deal with the horse spooked at the snake and not a hysterical woman, too. He thought she deserved a little tenderness after all that.

"It hurts." She leaned into his shoulder, feeling weak, womanly-weak. That upset her as much as the pain in her ankle. His strong arms around her provided more comfort than she'd expected. She took a moment to steep in that strength.

"I imagine it does." He held her tight.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him, although he kept a hand at her back. "Now what am I going to do?"

Rosie nosed Sarah's hair. The horse seemed contrite, as if she knew she'd caused her rider's injury.

Sarah reached up and patted Rosie's nose. "Just get me up on Rosie. I'll ride back."

Bill pushed Rosie back. "No, I can't do that."

Sarah dried her damp eyes with her shirt sleeve. She wanted to tell him that there was no stone in Rosie's hoof, that she was just being foolish, so let her ride the damn horse.

"Think you can hold on if I put you on my back?"

Sarah turned surprised eyes to him. He had spoken so quietly she wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly. "What?" she asked. "You'd carry me on your back?"

He dipped his head slightly, like before. Sarah's heart skipped at his shyness.

"Well, I'm not putting Rosie on my back."

Sarah laughed, pushing at him. When he lost his balance and fell back into the grass, she laughed harder.

"Sorry," she said. "But that was silly."

He got up and hunched at her side again. "I like it better when you're laughing."

Sarah's stomach tingled. "Me, too." She straightened her injured leg, winching a little. "It does feel better now, without the boot on. Thank you."

"I knew it would." He winked at her, at her pout. "You ready to ride?"

She pulled her knees up to her chin, being careful with her right leg. Crossing her arms on her knees, she rested her forehead on them. "Just give me a minute, will you?" She needed to calm herself to be in such close contact with this wholly charming man.

Bill rose, stretching his long legs. "Sure, take all the time you need." He picked up her slit boot and tucked it in a saddle bag on Rosie's back.

"Did the snake get you when it stuck?" Sarah asked.

"No," he answered. "Kicked it away. It's not poisonous."

She raised her head and looked over at him. "You kicked a striking snake away?"

He stopped fidgeting with Rosie's saddle and smiled down at her. "I live out here. Pays to be quick on your feet."

"That's crazy," she said, shifting in the grass. "I think I'm ready now."

Bill pulled her up and steadied her as she stood on her one good leg. He turned and stooped down in front of her. With a deep breath, Sarah leaned over his back, sliding her arms over his broad shoulders and around his neck. Her stomach butterflies flitted around when he stood, lifting her feet off the ground. She felt his shoulder muscles bunch as he reached behind her knees and pulled her legs up. This felt much different than when she'd received 'piggy-back' rides from her father as a child.

Bill shifted her gently, centering her weight. "Okay?"

She nodded her head against the back of his shoulder. "Yes. Please don't hurt yourself." She felt guilty beyond reason, but couldn't make herself own up to it now.

"You weigh less than most things I tote around this ranch," he assured her. "Can you reach Rosie's reins? My hands are kind of full."

She reached her hand out and Rosie walked the two steps over to her. She grabbed the reins. "Got her."

His movement was fluid; she hardly bounced at all. Twice he'd had to shift her up higher on his back. Occasionally her sore ankle brushed against his leg as he tramped through the high grass. She'd gasp a little and he'd mumble a 'Sorry'. He never stopped, even though she'd felt his shirt soaking through with sweat. He was simply amazing and having her heart beat against his strong back made her forget about her throbbing ankle, somewhat.

Guilt started gnawing in the pit of her stomach as they reached the wood-lined edge of the ranch house complex. Rosie had kept pace, snorting and fighting her bit now and then. Sarah saw her father crossing the yard from the barn, reaching them before they reached the house.

"Hey. Here, now. What's this?" Reece Gage stopped in front of Bill. "Sarah?"

She handed him Rosie's reins. "My ankle…"

"My God," Reece said, looking at his daughter's bruised and swollen ankle. "But, why didn't you ride the horse?"

"She's … lame … hoof … stone," Bill panted.

"Willy!" Reece called to the oldest hand at the ranch. "Take Rosie to the barn. Fresh water and food. Remove her shoes and make sure there's plenty of straw in the stall." Reece handed the old man Rosie's reins.

"Bill, let me take Sarah." Bill stooped down on trembling legs and Reece scooped his daughter into his arms. "Get the door for me."

Stumbling on tired legs, Bill reached the door a half-step before the worried father.

"Follow me," Reece barked.

"I'll just go see about the horse…" Bill started. He'd never been in the main ranch house before.

"Nonsense, get in here." Reece was adamant.

Bill stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him. Reece disappeared into the house with his daughter. Bill stayed in the entryway.

"Bill." Reece returned, without Sarah, and motioned Bill into the parlor.

"Sit down." Reece said, nearly a command, motioning Bill towards a chair.

"Please sit, Bill," Sarah said, her voice soft.

"I'm not fit for a chair like that," Bill said, sweat dripping from every pore. He stared at the fluffy, upholstered chair.

Reece gave Bill an annoyed look. "Sit down, man. How far did you carry my daughter?"

"It was half a mile if an inch, Daddy," Sarah said.

"Bill?" Reece gaped at Bill.

Sitting on as little of the chair cushion as he could manage, Bill shrugged. "About that far, sir."

Reece stepped aside as a house maid, Coleen, brought a cool compress for Sarah's ankle. When Sarah gasped as the cloth covered her injured ankle, Reece took his daughter's hand in both of his and kissed it tenderly. A tear ran down his cheek.

"Oh, Daddy. I'm okay, really." Her own tears accompanied her father's.

Bill stood to leave, the family moment becoming too much for him.

"I know, child," Reece said. "I just…"

Reese turned. "Bill, will you please sit down. Miss Coleen, bring us some water. Glasses and a pitcher. Thank you."

Bill remained standing, looking for the first opportunity to bolt. When Coleen handed him the glass of water he said a quiet "Thank you."

"Take a rest, Bill, and tell me what happened out there." Reece sat on the arm of Sarah's couch, resting his hand on her shoulder. He kept his gaze on Bill until the stubborn man sat down again.

"Daddy…." began Sarah.

"Sarah, just relax. Bill?" Reece shifted into full 'ranch owner' mode.

Bill hit the highlights, no embellishments, no fanfare. He apologized for not controlling the horse before she stepped on Sarah.

"That's nothing to apologize for, man." Reece paced around the parlor. "Sounds like quite an afternoon. I'm grateful for what you did for my daughter."

Standing again, Bill set his glass on the tray with the pitcher. "It was only what was proper." He nodded to Sarah. "I'll go check on Rosie."

"No," Reece commanded. "You're my guest for today." The least he could do for the man was feed him and let him rest comfortably after such a hectic afternoon.

Bill backed away from the ranch owner. "Oh, no, Mr. Gage. I could never impose…I'll just get back to the lower meadow, back to work."

"Damn it, Bill." Reece stepped up to the man, more grateful than words could express. "This is my daughter, my only child." He went back to the couch, took Sarah's hand. "Indulge a father's whim, please."

Resigned, Bill nodded his head. "Okay." He poured himself another glass of the cool water.

"Thank you. For everything." Reece shook the tall, stout Indian's hand.

Bill had a luxurious bath before a dinner that had more food than he'd seen in a month. He ate heartily. He'd dressed in some of Mr. Gage's work clothes and they almost fit. Now, he looked at the soft bed in the guest room. He took the quilt off the bed, folded it lengthwise and ended this strange day on the floor under the open window.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill had supplies on site at the lower meadow fencing project to work for a solid week. The nearby pond provided relief from the heat and to wash his sweaty self and clothes. A bubbling spring provided fresh, cool water to drink. The work was hard, but never completely kept his mind off the rancher's daughter. Their meeting had been so … disquieting. He preferred the quiet and calm. But headstrong Sarah Gage had stirred something in him. And it was a pleasant something.

Well into his last afternoon's work for the week, Bill caught sight of a lone horse and rider heading his way. He watched from the corner of his eye until he was able to identify the rider. Not Sarah this time. Instead, it was her father. Bill leaned the coil of wire against a post, grabbed his shirt, and strode to the shade tree as Reece Gage dismounted. Hastily tucking his gloves in his back pocket, he held his hand out to greet the boss.

"Mr. Gage."

"Bill."

Instead of looking Bill in the eye, Reece Gage surveyed the job site. It impressed him. He was beginning to see a trend with that. The man's behavior with his daughter had impressed the hell out of him.

He looked at the neat line of fence. No discarded material lying around. Materials in use were neatly stacked, coiled nearby. The line of the proposed fence path was mowed down with the scythe, providing a visual image of the enormity of the task. His attention went back to the long line of completed fencing, including a gap for a gate. He knew Bill was working here alone and it numbed his mind seeing how much was already accomplished.

Reece had done some discreet investigating on Bill after the incident with his daughter. He hadn't pried, but did what he'd felt was a father's prerogative. He found out that Bill went into town once a month, on pay day; he played an occasional poker game and rarely won; he was undefeated at arm wrestling and no one would challenge any longer unless they were new in town; he favored whiskey, but no one recalled seeing him drunk; the saloon ladies loved Bill and he was known to accommodate them. Most of his pay went to his family on the reservation and he had several horses and cattle on the reservation that he tended on his two days off each month from the ranch. Not a saint by any means, but a man with family values and a controlled wilder side.

That his daughter had become interested in Bill was no surprise. If he were a betting man, Reece would take it that Bill had some interest in Sarah as well.

"You doing Sarah's patrols while she's laid up?" asked Bill. He'd given the boss a few minutes to scrutinize the job site.

The question pulled Reece from his thoughts. He laughed. "That woman has me wrapped around her little finger." He gave Bill a friendly pat on the shoulder. "And I let her."

"Pass inspection?" queried Bill.

"In more ways than one," Reece murmured, gazing at the fence line again.

"Yes?" Bill wasn't exactly sure what that response was supposed to mean.

"Yes. Absolutely." He shook his head. "I don't know how you do this – all this work by yourself."

"No distractions, sir," Bill answered his boss's rhetorical question.

Reece laughed. "That'd do it. Certainly." He gave the young man a quick glance. According to his hire papers, he should be about twenty-four years old. As Reece aged, he realized that youth had more to do with working hard than he'd like to admit.

"Is Miss Sarah healing well?" asked Bill, pushing the subject away from himself.

"Oh, my, yes." Reece's face lit up thinking about his daughter. "Thought I was going to pull my hair out until Doc Bailey let her up with a cane to walk around with."

"That's good to hear, sir. A horse can do a lot of damage to a person."

"I know that," he said, tone very serious. "Speaking of Sarah," Reece lightened. "Along with checking on her pet project's progress, she asked me to invite you up for dinner this evening."

Bill stepped back, shaking his head. "You've already shown your gratitude, Mr. Gage. I'm not wanting any indebtedness."

"I told Sarah that'd be your reaction. This is totally her idea, no strings attached." Reece grinned at the uncomfortable expression Bill wore. "Seems my Sarah has taking a liking to your company."

"Sir, I never…" started Bill, his eyes wide with shock.

Reece held up his hand, stopping Bill's protest. "I've no objections. Yet." His daughter's interests could land on a lot worse candidate. "I'll never hear the end of it if you don't agree and I'll never keep her from coming down here and dragging you back. She still has some healing to do so I'd appreciate it if you'd volunteer."

Bill turned away, massaging his clenched jaw muscle. He wanted to see Sarah again, but not in that fancy house. He couldn't relax there. He wanted her to come out here where it was calm and familiar to him. But he knew she couldn't travel that far yet.

"I have to get more supplies, Mr. Gage," Bill said, still looking out over the meadow. "I'll finish up this strand, hook Ol' Jake to the wagon and be up at the house before sundown."

"Sounds like a plan." He gave Bill a hearty slap on the shoulder, almost hurt his hand and didn't think Bill even noticed. "You could just haul the wagon up now, let this work rest until tomorrow."

The sharp look Reece received gave him the impression of a man simmering at his limit. He raised his hands in surrender. "All right, we'll go with your plan. Dinner at eight, please."

"Yes, sir," Bill responded, already walking back to his work.

Mounting his steed, Reece Gage shook his head. He wasn't sure which of those two was the more hard-headed – his Sarah or Indian Bill.


	3. Chapter 3

As Bill entered the worker's quarters after scrubbing in the bath house, all talking stopped. He was rarely in quarters but was sure the others had heard that the owner's daughter had called on him. Dressed in his 'town' clothes, he strode from the silent room. Pausing a few steps outside the doorway, he smirked as low, murmuring voices floated from behind him. That was exactly why he preferred the company of the grass, sky and wind. And Sarah Gage.

After another indulgent meal, he sat on the back porch swing with Miss Sarah. Her legs lay across his thighs as she had told him she had to keep the injured one propped up. She was cheerful and laughed a lot, which was pleasant to hear. Her father had retired to his office to do paperwork, leaving them alone, aside from Coleen and Reggie, the house help that hovered all the time.

"Daddy said you've been working hard," Sarah said. Her smile felt a mile wide. "I can't wait to see for myself."

"You'll be down bothering me soon enough, Miss Sarah." He grinned at her. "I'm enjoying the peace and quiet while I can."

"Oh, you," she grumbled, swiping at his arm. She held out her wine glass and Coleen appeared from inside to fill it.

Bill swung them, his long legs stretching and bending. He listened as Sarah explained her grandiose plans for various aspects of the ranch. As her ideas became more like dreams than anything workable, Bill realized he'd lost count of how many times he'd paused the swing for Coleen to fill Sarah's wine glass. Plus, Sarah had had several glasses with dinner.

Sarah slurred through her latest rant and put her glass out, pouring the half-full contents onto the porch floor. Dutifully, Coleen came out with the wine bottle. Bill stopped her with a glance, pried the glass from Sarah's hand and gave it to Coleen. He dismissed Coleen with a twitch of his hand.

"Sarah." Bill's voice was stern. "You've drank too much wine. You need to go to sleep."

Sarah sat up from where she'd slouched on the swing and scooted onto Bill's lap. "I've not had too much drunk." She giggled.

"Sarah…"

"I know what I want." She put her arms around Bill's neck and kissed him.

Her warmth and sweet scent intoxicated him, even though he'd drunk nothing stronger than cool spring water. He could taste the wine on her lips. Unable to resist, he returned the kiss fervently and was very aware of her body pressing into his. Knowing her state, he shut down his desires – as hard as that was – and pulled away from her.

"I really liked that," she murmured against his cheek.

"Me, too." Bill's heart raced and breath gasped as if he'd run here from the lower meadow. He tucked her head against his shoulder and held her tight while he regained control of his breathing and senses.

He carried Sarah into the house, requesting that Coleen fetch Mr. Gage.

Bill heard Coleen apologizing for giving Sarah so much wine as she and Reece Gage entered the parlor.

"She's twenty years old, Coleen. She's responsible for her actions now." Reece sighed audibly as he saw his virtually unconscious daughter in Bill's arms. "Out like a bad light, huh?" Before anyone could respond, Reece continued, "Follow me, Bill. We'll put her to bed. Coleen, please get her ready for sleeping."

They climbed the stairs silently, Bill listening to Sarah's quiet breathing.

Her bedroom was very feminine. The hairs on Bill's neck pricked at being in there. He laid her gently on the pretty bed and made a hasty retreat.

Coleen closed the door on the men in the hallway.

"Well," Reece said, "thank you again, Bill."

Bill shook his head. "I'll be going now."

Reece stopped Bill with a hand on his arm. Not that Bill couldn't break away easily enough. "This isn't yours, nor Coleen's, fault. Sarah's a woman now." Reece rubbed his hand across his face. "I hope she finds the maturity that goes along with that soon."

"She kissed me in that state, Mr. Gage. Before she nodded off." Bill wanted for Reece Gage to hear that from him, now, than from Sarah when she woke up. He wanted to set the facts straight now.

Reece's eyebrow shot up. "Did she, now?"

"I kissed her back," admitted Bill.

"I would suppose you'd have to." Reece tried not to think where most men would have taken this situation.

"I'll be going now." Bill headed for the stairs.

"Bill, no." Reece's voice took a command tone. "It's late." His voice softened to a weary father tone. "Stay in the guest room tonight."

Bill hesitated at the steps.

"Just do it, Bill."

"Yes, sir."

Once again, Bill ended a strange day on the quilt under the open window in the guest room.


	4. Chapter 4

Counting the fence posts in the wagon, Bill entered the three-quarter barn and hefted three more off the stored stack. He dropped them into the wagon with a loud banging clatter. He carried a coil of barbed wire from the barn, adding it to the wagon, then two more. Reggie had already given him a week's worth of dried meat and beans. He turned to go to the feed barn to get Ol' Jake a bucket of oats and nearly knocked Sarah to the ground.

He grabbed her around the waist as she started to fall, knocked her cane, sending it rolling under the wagon.

"Are you all right?" He leaned her against the back of the wagon and returned her cane.

"I'm fine. Thank you." She took her cane, but didn't move.

"I didn't see you. Wasn't expecting you to be right behind me." When she didn't look at him, he tilted her head up. It was easy to see that she wasn't her normal bright and cheery self.

"Yes, I've a pretty thick head on this morning." She pushed his hand away, looked to the ground again. "Already lost my stomach once this morning."

Bill brushed his hand across her very pale cheek. "You've no color at all."

She turned her face away from his touch. She didn't feel that she deserved it. "I want to apologize."

"I need no apologies from you, Sarah." Bill let his hand travel down her arm. He wanted to let her go, but when she was near, he had to touch her.

She looked up, her gaze steady on him. "It's for me. I need it." She looked down again. "I'm very ashamed."

Bill stepped closer, until there was barely a handbreadth between them. "There's no need for shame…"

"Yes, there is, damn it." She stamped her cane on the ground. "I didn't want our first…" She cast her gaze down. "Kiss – I didn't want it to be like that."

He took her by the shoulders but said nothing until she looked up at him. "Sarah, there were many things wrong about that kiss. None of them your fault. You and me…we…it just can't be."

Sarah's eyes snapped. She raised her cane with half a mind to beat some sense into his dull head with it. "You do not get to decide who I can kiss or have dinner with or anything else."

Bill backed up a step, noting that Sarah now had plenty of color in her face – red, with anger.

"Do you know who my mother was?"

Bill shook his head, knowing he was about to find out.

"Ida Sylvanie Valdonado. From a Spanish immigrant family working for money to start a vineyard. Her mother, my grandmother, washed clothes for daddy's parents here on this ranch. She did wash for other ranches around, also. She worked hard. When daddy saw my mom, he didn't see the lowly daughter of a servant." Sarah took a gulping breath. "He saw an exquisitely beautiful woman working with determination to make her parents' dream come true." Sarah leaned against the wagon. "He made her his wife. Her status didn't matter. The person she was did"

"Sarah…" Bill wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. Letting her go was no longer an option.

She didn't want the tears to come, but thoughts of her mother always brought them. She didn't bawl; the tears just slipped out as sadness filled her. She wished she could talk to her mother now, hear her wise advice on matters of the heart. She certainly didn't seem to be doing so well on her own on that subject.

Bill framed Sarah's face with his hands. Her paleness had returned, sharply contrasting his tanned skin. "Let me take you back to the house. You do not look well."

She rolled her eyes, throwing her arms up in resignation.

"Let me go back to work. I'll think about what you've said." Bill held his arm out and she took it. He walked with her toward the back porch. "The wine, is it your grandparents'?"

Sarah slowed her pace, almost stopping. "Yes, it is." His intuition surprised her. "They send a case each year for me now that I'm supposed to be grown up." She sniffled. "My mom never got to see the dream come true. After she died birthing me, Daddy gave her parents the money they needed to start the vineyard." She took a deep breath. "At first, he'd said, they didn't want it, but Daddy convinced them to honor their daughter – and Sylvania Vineyards was started." Picking up the pace again, she continued, "Whenever I start drinking it, and it's really good wine, I always drink too much and end up embarrassing myself."

"Mother's milk." Bill squeezed her hand. "And you shouldn't feel embarrassed about last evening."

Sarah snorted a small laugh. "Hardly 'Mother's milk', but thanks."

Sitting her on a sturdy bench, not the swaying swing, he squatted in front of her. "When you can, come to me. We'll talk, okay."

Sarah nodded. "I will."

"I'll let Coleen know you're here." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Closing her eyes, Sarah leaned her head back. She could hear Bill's deep voice inside the house, then the sharp bang of the front screen door. She sighed. He'd done it again. She felt more scrambled up inside now than when she'd gone out to apologize to him.


	5. Chapter 5

For the first three days Bill worked on the fence, he tried not to think. It didn't work, of course. The feelings that even a drunken kiss evoked had his stirrings for Sarah whipped into a full scale demon wind.

Considering his worn clothes, calloused hands and meager ledger, he couldn't get past that it would be a huge mistake to pursue the likes of Sarah Gage. She had high style, soft and creamy skin, and her ledger was a book.

He set another post, tamped it tight.

Were those the reasons he was interested in Sarah? No. They just came with the package. So what did draw him to her?

Her smile – she wielded it like a rapier, stabbing him straight through the heart. Her dreams – the ranch would see a lot of changes under her reign. She was kind. She dearly loved her mother that she could never meet. She was brave and dedicated. Not many women would strive to run a ranch. Her confident beauty. These were the things that squeezed his heart every time he saw her.

Walking back from a refreshing morning dip in the pond on the fifth morning, Bill began to wonder if Sarah had given up on him. He couldn't blame her if she had, but he was really beginning to miss her.

Hunger had begun gnawing at him when he heard a horse snort. He jerked his head up, seeing Rosie and Sarah trotting along his fence line. He smiled.

"My goodness, Bill. You're almost finished," Sarah said from atop Rosie.

"Getting there." She wore those tight riding pants along with new riding boots. Tucked into her small waist was a pretty flower print shirt. A sparkling clip held her hair back. Bill's heart soaked up every part of her.

"Hope you're hungry. I brought a picnic lunch." She caught his gaze. "What?"

"I missed you."

Sarah's heart leapt into her throat. "Help me down, please."

Hands around her waist, Bill lifted Sarah off Rosie's back, setting her feet gently on the ground. "Okay?"

She nodded.

He brushed his lips against hers. "I'm starving."

Bill watched as Sarah packed the remnants of their lunch. He lay on a blanket in the shade of a large tree. Birds sang cheerily and a warm breeze blew, rustling the leaves. A full belly making him drowsy, Bill lay still and enjoyed the sights and sounds.

Sarah settled on the blanket beside him. She caught the look of calm serenity on his face just before he blazed a grin at her. "You like it out here."

Bill noted that she didn't ask, but stated. "Yes."

"It's a good place for thinking." She scooted down and lay beside him.

Again, not a question. "Yes."

"So, what's on your mind?" She had given him all the time to think things over that she could stand.

A question – and an easy one. "You." Bill smiled broadly.

She searched his face, looking for clues. Was he sincere? "Can you give me more than one word responses?"

Bill laughed. With a groan, he sat up. His unbuttoned shirt billowed in the light breeze. "I've been thinking that I really like being with you, Sarah." He looked out over the meadow. "I enjoy your company."

Sarah tried to calm her breathing, keep her tears of joy in check. "That makes me very happy." She'd been so afraid that he'd turn his back to her, write her off as unattainable.

"I have nothing to offer you, Sarah." He spread his arms. "This is all I have, all I am."

Sarah sat up, facing Bill. "You've already given me everything I want." She took his strong hand. "You respect my opinions; you don't dismiss my authority on the ranch." She squeezed his hand. "You are kind. You respect our land, my family." She smiled at him. And you're really, really good looking – a thought she kept to herself. She didn't feel the need to feed his ego that directly.

"Is that enough?"

She brought his hand to her face, leaned her cheek into his palm. "It's everything to me."

He pulled her to him, giving and taking a kiss worthy of being called their first. His heart soared that she'd give him a fair chance. He could do nothing but return the same to her.

"I've a question," Sarah asked, as she rested her head against Bill's shoulder as they sat on the blanket.

"Shoot." Bill returned to his single word responses.

"Don't you have an Indian name?" She asked as gently, as it seemed a subject he'd avoided on purpose. She heard him sigh. "You don't have to answer."

"It doesn't translate well."

"I won't tell anyone, I swear." She gave her best 'sweet' smile.

"You couldn't pronounce the native version."

"Try me."

Bill nuzzled into her neck and whispered in her ear.

Her eyes went wide. "Oh, my! Bill, that sounds so beautiful. What does it mean?"

Leaning back on his elbow, he grinned at her. Her excitement was very pleasant. "Basically it means 'one sturdy against the strongest winds'."

"That's not so bad. It really fits you. What's wrong with that translation?"

"That's the meaning behind the native name. When translated directly, it becomes 'Hard Headed'." He endured Sarah's hoot of laughter.

"Why 'Bill'?" she asked once she controlled her laughter. "That's such an ordinary name."

"I had no need for an 'ordinary name' until I came off the reservation looking for work." Bill sat up, pulled a piece of grass and twisted it around as he spoke. "I went into the saloon first, for a shot of – encouragement – before heading to your ranch and talking to Reece. I had just turned nineteen." He threw the grass down. "There was a poster of Billy the Kid on the wall in the saloon. When I shook your father's hand, 'Bill' is what came out. Everyone calls me that now or Indian Bill when they're talking about me."

"Billy the Kid, huh? You really are full of surprises."

He shrugged. "Pretty simple, to me."

No, she thought, nothing simple here.

It was late afternoon when he sent Sarah on her way and got back to work. To make up for it, he worked until it was dark. He cooled off and cleansed with a moon lit dip in the pond. Returning to the meadow, he ended this calm and quiet day on his blanket under the stars.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few of weeks passed in a blur of work, picnic lunches, sweet kisses and dinners at the ranch house. Bill's mind was so filled with thoughts of Sarah while he worked that he was surprised when he set the last fence post. All he had left to do was build and set the three gates. He turned his face to the sky and let out a shout of satisfaction.

When Sarah arrived with lunch they danced around inside the corral, awash with glee. This time they left together, Ol' Jake pulling the wagon, Sarah and Bill walking hand-in-hand with Rosie clomping beside them.

While Bill collected the lumber, supplies and tools for the gates, Sarah went to work cleaning Rosie's stall. She enjoyed the work, aside from the smell, which just went with ranching. It also allowed her to watch Bill as he worked – another task she enjoyed.

Before long she got the distinct feeling that she'd been feeding her horse entirely too much. There was enough fertilizer in Rosie's stall alone to cover the entire potato patch.

Sarah went to the three-quarter barn to get fresh straw to line Rosie's stall – lots of it. The metal wheel of the barrow clanged as she made her way across the compound. She smiled, seeing Bill sorting through the nail bins.

The strong odor of the wrong end of a horse wrinkled Bill's nose. He looked up to see Sarah grinning at him. She had horse manure smears to her elbows. She parked the wheelbarrow by the straw bin and sauntered over to him.

"You know," he tried not to cough, "you're sweet even when covered in horse dung." He gave her a quick kiss, holding his breath until he backed away.

"Oh, yeah?" She launched at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaving him little choice, he caught her around her waist. She smothered his lips, giving him a deep, sensuous kiss. "Sweet, huh?"

"More like devious." He kissed her again, then set her down. "Let's try that again after we both have baths."

She laughed and went back to her work.

He enjoyed her laugh, her impulsiveness, her softness. Bill shook his head, trying to clear the woman haze from his mind. He sighed a deep, clearing breath. Now he would have to jump in the pond with his clothes on to be able to stand working by himself. He grabbed his box of nails and headed out to the wagon. Deciding to rid himself of most of the smell, he went to his quarters for a new shirt.

Sarah whistled a tune as she forked straw into the barrow. Hearing a foot scuff behind her, she turned, expecting to find Bill trying to sneak up on her with a bucket of water or bottle of perfume.

"Oh." She was surprised to find Judd Wilkerson behind her. Judd's older brother, Brad, was the ranch foreman. She knew that was the only reason Judd was on staff. He was dim-witted and a bit mean. "You startled me, Judd." He'd always made her nervous – something about his eyes.

"I saw you two, you know." Judd sneered.

"It's not polite to spy on people, Judd." His eyes seemed too small, she decided. She couldn't read them but wasn't really sure she wanted to.

"Why you sparking with that injun, Missy? Us gentlemen not good enough for you?" Judd leered.

"I won't stand for talk like that, Judd. None of that is any of your business." She started to back away, bumping into and knocking over her barrow. His eyes were blank, but the rest of him yelled trouble. She stumbled, her feet tangling in the barrow handles.

In a blind, lusting rage, Judd jumped onto Sarah. He grabbed her shirt, sending several buttons flying off, the exposed creamy white skin making him drool.

Sarah screamed and hit and kicked.

"Bitch." Judd growled. "I got what you need, not that red-skinned bastard." He tore a sleeve almost completely off her pretty shirt.

The next second Judd was off her, smashing up against bins on the back wall. She gathered her torn shirt around her exposed skin and scooted behind the fallen barrow. She watched with terror filled eyes as Bill picked up the sleazy Judd and buried his fist into Judd's ugly face. Judd went down like a stone. She saw Bill move over him, ready to slam into him again. Before she could call out, Judd rose with a splintered board in his hand. He swung hard, catching Bill in the side. She screamed as Bill crouched down, holding his side. Judd closed in, board held high, a killer's snarl twisting his face. Sarah closed her eyes, unable to watch any longer.

Bill launched at Judd, catching him in the gut. He heard the air whoosh out of Judd's lungs as they landed hard on the packed dirt floor. Straddling Judd, Bill plowed fist after fist into his beady-eyed face. As Judd's feeble defense broke down, Bill heard Sarah yell his name from behind. He hesitated, then turned to see what she needed. He saw a blur, then darkness with pinpoints of light. He felt himself falling, but he never landed.

Sarah called out to Bill as Judd's brother, Brad, ran into the barn. He had a piece of metal pipe, wielding it like a baseball bat. Bile rose into Sarah's throat as Brad swung at Bill's head from behind, made contact with a sickening thud, and Bill collapsed in a heap beside Judd's bloodied body.

A gunshot froze Brad as he stood over Bill's unconscious body. Scared beyond screaming, Sarah looked up to see her father, a pistol in his hand.

"Get away from him now, Brad," commanded Reece Gage. He held the pistol steady on Brad Wilkerson.

"He beat my brother to a pulp," Brad roared. "I deserve this."

"We'll sort this out properly, Brad, not this way. Back away now." Reece pulled the hammer back on the pistol, the click echoing in the large barn.

Brad threw the pipe across the barn and knelt down beside his brother, weeping.

Sarah rose to see about Bill. She feared he was dead.

"Sarah, what…" Reece had not seen his daughter in the barn and was about to order her out when he noticed her torn shirt.

"Oh, Daddy," wailed Sarah. "Judd jumped me. Bill knocked him off. He hit Bill with a board in the side. Then Brad bashed Bill in the head when Bill wasn't looking." She gushed the whole story out in one breath.

Fire burned in Reece Gage's belly. It took every good grace he could muster to not shoot both the Wilkerson brothers on the spot. "Sarah, go to the house. Have Reggie call for Sheriff Carter and Doc Bailey. Go now, Sarah."

Once Sarah left, Reece eased forward toward Bill. He kept his pistol trained on Brad. "Give me any reason and I'll put a bullet in both of you."

"I think he killed my brother," Brad cried.

"Then I won't have to." Reece kneeled beside Bill, reached his hand to his neck. He felt a quick thumping against his fingertips. The relief he felt was deeper than he'd expected.

Bill started to move, straightening and curling his legs as he lay on his side.

"Take it easy, Bill. Just lie still," Reece said.

Bill rolled onto his knees. He cradled his pounding head in his hands. He remembered Sarah needed him. He called to her, "Sssarahhh."

"Sarah's okay, Bill. She's in the house. Stay quiet until the doc gets here." Reece didn't like how Bill sounded and knew he could be hurting himself further by moving around. He also knew how determined and hard-headed Bill was.

Bill heard Reece's voice but the words didn't penetrate the roaring in his ears. He pushed himself to a sitting position. He attempted opening his eyes, but the blurry room tilted and swayed. His stomach lurched and he had no control to stop it. He leaned over and threw up violently. His side and head stabbed him with searing pain. He clung to consciousness, but felt totally helpless.

Sarah ran into the barn with Doc Bailey. She went straight to Bill, pulling Doc with her. His condition nearly stopped her heart. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his head, staining the collar of his shirt. Those beautiful eyes were dull and unfocused, his face slack and expressionless. Somehow she pushed her paralyzing fear aside and she followed the instructions Doc Bailey gave her as he examined Bill.

"He's gotta tend to Judd first," Brad shouted. "He's dying."

"Bill gets treated first." Reece directed to Doc Bailey. "Then Doc can get Judd out of here." He turned to Brad. "Sheriff Carter is coming for you."

Bill tried to walk, his arms around Reece and Reggie. His legs were weak and the ground kept moving around, making him have to guess where to step. By the time they'd struggled their way to the stairs in the house, Bill was exhausted. His side ached fiercely, his head throbbed. They paused briefly, everyone needing a breather. Then the climb started. Bill now knew what those idiots that climbed high mountain peaks felt like – exhausted, dizzy, and damn glad when it was over. He dropped into what felt like a cloud and lost himself in it.


	7. Chapter 7

"When will he wake up?" Sarah watched the pale, sleeping man in the guest bed. It seemed unnatural to see him so still, for two days now.

"Doc'll be in later today to check on him." Reece hugged his daughter. "You gave your statement to the Sheriff, right?"

"Yes, yesterday when you went into town." She looked her father in the eye. "Will Bill be charged with anything? Will he have to go to jail?"

"No, I don't think so. He was defending you." He hugged her again. "And I'm damn glad he did."

"How's Judd?" She shivered when she'd said his name.

"Healing." Reece's voice was icy cold. "Both him and Brad will be going to jail."

"I'm glad of that. I don't want to see either of them again."

"Where's my peace and quiet?" The gravelly voice came from the bed.

"Bill! You're awake." Sarah rushed to his side.

"I was trying to sleep." He smiled, relieved when he only saw one of her and that she didn't waver around in a sickening fog.

"You've been sleeping for nearly two days. It's about time you woke up." She kissed his forehead, brushed her fingers across his cheek.

"Welcome back, Bill," Reece said.

"I've been in and out. Everything was too blurry, sickeningly blurry. That's gone now." He moved his head and the room took a little longer to catch up. "Well, almost." He closed his eyes and swallowed the queasy feeling.

"I've got some water. Please drink some – just a little bit." Sarah held a glass of water to his lips tilted it so the water just played at his dry, cracked lips.

"Thanks," Bill said, his eyes still closed. "That was nice." His voice trailed off and sleep took him again.

Sarah watched him sleep. She had no words to describe how happy she was that he woke up and appeared to know them and talked somewhat coherently to them. Some of the things Doc had said that could occur when Bill woke had her scared to death. But, Bill had seemed pretty much normal. She was very grateful for that incredibly hard head of his. In her mind, he lived up to his name, translated and native.

She took his big, rough hand in hers. She jumped a little when he lightly squeezed her hand. Looking at his face, she checked to see if she'd wakened him. But his eyes were still closed and his face still relaxed in the healing sleep that she knew he needed. She laid her cheek on their joined hands, needing the contact. Closing her eyes, she soon drifted into dreams of Bill lifting her off Rosie, carrying her through the meadow and working shirtless on her corral fence. A smile twitched her lip as she dozed.

Sarah had fussed and nursed Bill for the week since Reece had last looked in on him. He found Bill propped up on pillows and Sarah shaving him.

"Oh, Daddy," Sarah acknowledged her father. "Bill's going to join us for dinner this evening." She scraped the straight razor across his stubbly beard, swished it clean in the basin on the table. "His hands are too shaky to handle the razor yet."

"I see." Reece studied the wan look of the man who'd saved his daughter from a harrowing experience, and possibly more. "You up for that, Bill?"

Sarah finished and wiped off the smears of shaving cream with a damp towel. "Yes, sir," he replied to his boss's question. "Time to get back on my feet."

Reece had briefly thought about getting a professional nurse to care for Bill's convalescence, but he knew Sarah would never allow that. Bill did seem to enjoy having Sarah doting on him, for which he couldn't blame the man.

Sarah carried the basin into the bathroom. Bill swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, holding on to the bedpost to steady his weak legs. He eased over to Reece and put his hand out to shake. "Thank you for caring for me, getting me healed up."

Reece grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for coming to my daughter's rescue. If I'd seen what that bastard was doing, I'd likely be in prison for murder."

Bill backed out of the embrace. "If not for getting bashed in the head, I'd've been up for murder myself. Did Judd live?" He couldn't ask Sarah that, but Reece would tell him.

"Yeah, he's alive. A bit more dim-witted than before, but who'll care where he's headed." Reece nodded as Sarah slipped her arm around Bill's, steadying him.

"It's time for our walk now. You up for the stairs again?" She smiled up at Bill.

"You're a slave driver." He smiled back at her. "Let's go."

Reece watched as the big Indian shuffled along with his daughter. As they entered the hallway, Sarah slid her arm around Bill's waist, guiding him. Reece shook his head – they were both fully enjoying this and that had him smiling.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why don't you let me drive you into town?" Sarah pouted, her brow crinkled with worry.

Bill gently kissed her forehead. "I told you, I'm going on the reservation, too, and will probably stay over with my parents. I'll ride Breeze on the trails, get there faster than your car and have the wind in my face."

"I just don't like you going that far alone. Not yet." Her pout stayed put.

"I'm fine. Doc said so." Bill nibbled her protruding lower lip, teasing it until she laughed and swatted at him. "Don't worry. You've been a wonderful nurse."

"You should still let me drive you." She crossed her arms, in full pout again.

"Oh, you drive me all right." He pulled on his duster, palmed his hat. "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon." He pulled her against him, planting a deep kiss on her pouting lips.

"Please be careful." Sarah touched her fingers to his face. "Please."

"Of course." He placed his hat on his head, which, thankfully, no longer throbbed. It felt good to have a purpose for the day – a very special purpose.

###

The saloon wasn't very crowded in the middle of a week day, which suited Bill just fine.

"Whiskey," Bill said to the bar keep. He downed the shot in one gulp, motioned for another.

The poster of Billy the Kid was still on the wall. He toasted it with his second shot, felt the familiar warm burn as he swallowed. He put his money on the bar and left. This was one place he knew to leave wanting more.

At the bank, instead of depositing his pay, he withdrew a stack of bills. He hesitated on the sidewalk as he looked down at his next destination – Jamison's Jewelry. His palms began sweating just looking at that store.

"Hello, Bill."

Recognizing the husky voice, Bill closed his eyes for a second. "Hello, Betsy," he said in a neutral tone.

Betsy always treated him as 'her man' when he'd come into the saloon – usually looking for company. She could make a decent man a decent wife, but that wasn't what Betsy wanted. Well, she needed to know that 'her man' belonged wholly and completely to someone else – a very special someone. He thought he had a way to do that in a kind manner that she would surely understand. Bill was a kind person, after all.

"What are you doing out here? Been hearing lots of gossip about you and not seeing much of you at all. Makes me think all that gossip is true." Betsy took his arm.

"Might be some truth to it," Bill said. "I want to ask a favor of you, Betsy. I'm in need of a feminine opinion." He let her keep her hold on his arm and steered her towards the jewelry store.

"A favor, huh?" Betsy smiled brightly.

They entered the store, a bell clanging as the door swung open. Skinny George Jamison stepped up to the counter, his eyes going wide as the big Indian and Betsy, who he knew from the saloon, stood across from him.

"Now," Bill explained, "if a man were to ask for your hand, what kind of ring would most please you?"

Betsy bounced on her toes. "You mean I could pick from any of the rings? Any at all?"

"Yes, anything in the store." Bill stood back while Betsy 'oohed and ahhed' her way around the glass display counter knowing that whatever she picked, he'd get something completely different for Sarah.

"It would just have to be this one." Betsy pointed to a giant diamond with emeralds and pearls surrounding it. "Please, can I try it on?" She looked over to Bill. "As a return favor."

Stepping up to the counter, Bill brought his full height to bear on the skinny and nervous looking George. "Let the lady see the ring."

With shaking hands, George pulled the ring's case out and placed it on the counter.

Because he was, in his heart, a gentleman, Bill took the ring and slipped it on Betsy's finger – right hand, of course.

Betsy swirled around the small room, her bejeweled hand held in front of her face. "Oooh, it's just so beautiful." She returned to the counter, removed the ring herself and placed it back in its case

Bill nodded to George and the ring case went back into the display counter.

"Thank you, Bill." She gave him a wink. "She's a lucky lady." She strode out of the store, still smiling.

"This the ring you want, sir?" George asked, his hand back on Betsy's ring case.

"No, of course not." Bill looked over the selections in his price range. He pointed to a ring with a pink stone surrounded by four smaller diamonds. "This one."

"Oh. The pink sapphire." George pulled the case and set it on the counter. "A perfect ring for a lady." George's eyes flicked to the door, then back to Bill.

"This ring is for the perfect lady," Bill said, admiring the ring, imagining it on Sarah's pretty hand.

He dropped his cash on the counter. "This is to hold the ring. I'll have the rest to you in a week." He pushed the money and the ring, back in its case, to George.

"Yes, sir." George took it all into the back room. When he returned to the counter, the store was empty.

###

Walking up to his grandfather's home, Bill entered the open doorway without knocking, as was custom. He left his shoes by the entrance and crossed the dirt floor to a small room in the back. He called his grandfather's name.

"Enter."

Stepping into the dark room, Bill smelled sweat and the sweetness of the burning herbs his grandfather used to purify his body.

"Sit."

Obediently, Bill sat. Folding his long legs in front of him, he placed his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his interlaced fingers.

"What occasion has my son's son coming to call on an old man?"

"Your wisdom, Grandfather." The dim light from the meditation room's doorway cast faint shadows in the dark room. He heard the hiss as his grandfather dribbled more herb infused water on the hot rocks, the steam billowing into the air. This wasn't the only reason Bill was sweating.

"Something troubling you, boy?"

Bill huffed out a breath. "Only that which has troubled men through all time."

"Women."

Bill snorted. "A specific one."

"This specific woman have a hold on your heart?"

"A death grip, Grandfather." Bill's voice softened just thinking of Sarah.

"Does she share her heart?"

"All of it, Grandfather."

"What is the problem then? Is she from your mother's clan? Is she already paired?"

"None of that, Grandfather. She's not of our People."

"I see."

Bill wasn't sure that he did.

"Our People have welcomed outsiders into our fold many times. From the days before my memories. Why is this a problem?"

"She is many classes above me, Grandfather." Bill rested his forehead on his hands. "I don't think I'll have her father's blessing if I ask for her." That it was a mistake to think he and Sarah could be together kept gnawing at the edges of his heart.

"Does she lord her privilege over you?"

"No, Grandfather."

"Does she shame you?"

"Never, Grandfather."

"Is she happy with you?"

"Yes." The image of Sarah's smile immediately popped into Bill's mind. He'd seen it often when she'd brought lunch to him, nursed him back to health, had dinner with her and quiet talks on the back porch swing.

"Does her father want his daughter to be happy?"

"Of course." Bill's throat closed at the thought of being with Sarah for the rest of his days.

"Boy, ask the man for his daughter. Tell him what is in your heart."

"I can't be wrong about this, Grandfather," Bill said, his voice tight. "I can't see how I've possibly mistaken our hearts."

"_The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one_. Go to him, boy. Ask for his daughter."

Letting his grandfather's words sink in for a few minutes, Bill stood. "I will, Grandfather. I trust in your wisdom."

Feeling better about putting the ring on hold, Bill set out to put the plan in action to get the rest of the money together for that perfect ring for his perfect lady.

Since the day was waning, Bill walked the path to his parents' place. His mother sat outside peeling sweet potatoes, her favorite.

Smiling, Bill gave his mother a hearty, warm hug and took over the peeling chore. He talked with his father while his mother cooked. They ate together, sitting on the floor around the low table. He and his sister had shared plentiful plates and times of gnawing hunger around that table. He could not picture Sarah leaving her grand dining table with the pinch of hunger still in her belly. Doubts shaded his optimism of winning Sarah's hand. Mind and heart reeling, he ended this stressful day on a quilt on the floor of his parents' home.


	9. Chapter 9

Bill had just set the second gate when he heard the thunder of a horse at full gallop. It felt good to be back working, even if his strength wasn't fully back yet. He started to worry when the horse, he could see now that it was Rosie and Sarah, didn't slow. He stepped back as Sarah finally reined Rosie to a halt, making the horse prance and snort.

Sarah jumped down and ran straight into Bill. Fury flashed in her eyes and she pounded her fists against his chest. "How _could_ you?"

Caught completely by surprise, Bill grabbed Sarah's wrists. Then he had to dodge quickly as she kicked at his shins. "Whoa, Sarah. What's this all about?"

She stood stiffly, jerked her arms back. "How could you?" A deep sadness edged the fury in her voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sarah. Please explain yourself." The accusing question brought out Bill's ire.

Sarah's fury equaled his ire. She stomped a few steps away, her fists balled. She turned, facing him. "I went shopping with Lilith Goodman this morning." She took a deep breath. "She told me that she saw you with that floozy Betsy draped all over you the other day – when you wouldn't let me take you into town."

Bill paled, shock flashing over his face.

Sarah watched, equating his expression to guilt. "How _could_ you?"

"No. No, it wasn't anything like that," Bill tried to explain.

"So you _were_ with her!" Seething, Sarah's eyes narrowed to slits.

Bill took a deep breath, fear stabbing into his belly. "Yes. She was there and I was there. I used her to…"

The flurry of fists assaulted Bill again. "You…you…" was all that Sara could get out.

Desperate, Bill stifled the fists by pulling Sarah to him and holding her tight. "No. Sarah, no." She melted into sobs in his arms. That wounded Bill more than her fists ever could. He lowered them to sit on the ground, holding her until the sobs subsided.

"It was nothing like what Lilith Goodman insinuated, Sarah. Please listen to my side."

Sarah moved away a little, hugged her knees to her chest. She couldn't look at him, but she'd listen. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." Relieved, Bill thought a minute before he started. "It was a mistake. I know that now. But it was nothing."

"Bill, you were _with_ her. How can that be nothing?"

"She walked up to me on the street, Sarah. I didn't go looking for her. I wanted to let her know I wasn't going to be around anymore."

"Didn't you go into the saloon?"

Bill felt like a condemned man. "Yes. No one was there. I had two drinks and left."

"Why?"

His ire sparked again. "I'm a grown man. I can have a drink if I want one." Pushing his temper aside, he shrugged. "I like whiskey. Hadn't had any for a long time." Finally, he sighed. "I figured I wouldn't be back there. Wouldn't need to be back there."

"And Betsy?"

Bill didn't want to say anything about the ring; it was supposed to be a surprise. But, he wouldn't need it if he didn't. "I took Betsy into Jamison's to see what kind of a ring a woman liked." He watched shock spread across Sarah's face and winced.

"You let a floozy like Betsy pick out a ring you want to give to me?"

That condemned feeling returned full force. "No. Hell no, Sarah." Frustrated, he beat his fist on the ground. "I let her pick out and try on some gaudy ring. It showed her how serious I am – about you. I was shopping for an engagement ring. That's as serious as it gets." He stretched his legs out, crossed at the ankle. "It worked. She danced around a bit, pulled off the ring, and strode right out.

"I picked out the perfect ring for my perfect lady." He saw some of the fury and accusations soften in her eyes. "Don't ask me which one it is, either. I want something to remain a surprise." He felt his heart beating again. He was sure it stopped when she'd stabbed him with those furious and pained eyes.

Sarah was silent for a while. "I can't believe you bought a ring."

"Buying," he corrected. "It's on hold. I'm getting the rest of the money together."

He'd dipped his head in that shy way that melted her heart. "Bill…"

He interrupted her. "I'd never do anything to hurt you intentionally, Sarah. I made a mistake, I know that."

She held her hand out to him. He pulled her into his lap and she rested her head against his shoulder. "I should trust you more."

He rubbed her back. "You do when I need you to, right? Like now."

She nodded her head.

"We okay now?"

She nodded again. "Yeah." She sat, listening to his heartbeat. "When do I get to see the ring?"

Laughing, Bill kissed her beautiful lips. "Soon. Real soon."


	10. Chapter 10

Sitting next to each other at the grand dining table in the ranch house, Bill and Sarah held hands under the table. He felt confident with Sarah beside him, but she would soon retire to the parlor with her grandmother and leave him to face her father alone.

Coleen and Reggie cleared the table and the ladies left to relax in the parlor, as usual.

Bill cleared his throat. "Mr. Gage, I have something to discuss with you." Bill's throat dried up when Reece Gage's gaze swung to him. He took a gulp of water. "I've something to ask of you, sir."

Reece Gage settled back in his chair, took in the nervousness in Bill's demeanor. He didn't see Bill uncomfortable too often – usually when it involved his daughter.

"I have an item I need to discuss with you. It's important." Reece wanted to get his announcement out of the way before giving the floor to Bill…and Sarah, he figured.

"Of course, sir." Bill wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, took another drink of water.

"Well, with the Wilkersons in jail, my ranch is without a foreman. I'd like for you to step up to foreman, Bill." Reece watched Bill's face, which, oddly, looked relieved. "I'm impressed with your work, your work ethic, and how you've conducted yourself personally."

"I've only just turned twenty-five, sir." Bill was relieved that Reece didn't demand that he stay away from his daughter. The offer of the foreman position came as a complete surprise. "I'd be jumping over several older hands."

"I'm glad you're thinking this through, Bill. I've weighed those issues in my decision and I think the benefits you bring to the position outweigh the negatives." Reece tapped his fingers on the table, and old habit he'd given up trying to break.

"I'm really honored, sir. But…"

"If I have any trouble with any of the staff on this, or anything, I'll show them the gate." Reece held his hand out.

Bill stood, shook Reece Gage's hand and eased back into his seat. The extra money will help with building a life with Sarah. He wanted to buy her nice things with his own money. Like the ring. He patted his pocket, making sure it was still there. Relieved, he traced the small circle with his finger.

"Good, that's settled then." Reece sipped his wine. "I'll work with you starting Monday. That'll give you time to get settled in, get used to the idea."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Bill's mind felt numb. Too much was happening at once. Foreman. Engagement. His simple life was quickly becoming complicated.

"What's on your mind, Bill?" Reece prompted.

"Well, sir." For some reason words would not come to Bill's mind. He looked away from Reece Gage's intense face for a second, looking towards the parlor where Sarah had disappeared.

And there she stood, peeking around the jamb. She filled his heart, making the words flow.

"Your daughter, Sarah, has captured my heart and I hers." He looked back to Reece, stumbling a moment under the paternal glare. "Uh, I'm asking for her hand, to be paired with her. Married, it is. I ask your permission to marry Sarah."

There, he'd done it. He set his anxious gaze back to Sarah.

Reece Gage turned, following Bill's stare to his daughter peeking from the parlor doorway. "Sarah?"

Sarah rushed into the dining room, into Bill's waiting arms. "Yes, Daddy?"

Bill released Sarah and she went to her father. She hugged him dearly, whispering in his ear.

"Sit down, both of you," Reece said, somewhat sharply.

Sarah sat across from Bill.

Reece rubbed his hand down his face. He'd figured this was coming. What else, other than his Sarah, would have stoic Bill so nervous? Bill is an outstanding worker and a decent person. He had just promoted him to foreman, right? _Oh, hell_.

"Sarah, are you in love with Bill?" Reece watched her face closely, he'd know if it were true or not.

"Oh, yes, Daddy. Yes." Sarah put trembling fingers to her face, wiping tears of joy from her cheeks.

Reece's heart ached at the sight of his daughter's tears. He had no doubts. He turned toward Bill and found him staring longingly at Sarah. Although Bill shed no tears, which Reece appreciated, the look on Bill's face and in his eyes showed Reece enough.

Reece stood, palms on the table. "Okay," he stated. "I can see that you two are together on this. I have a couple of things to address."

He looked to Bill. "Are your intentions solely for my daughter's heart?" Reece paused for a moment. "Or her land?"

"Daddy!" Sarah jumped up, glaring.

Bill stood slowly, addressed Sarah first. "No, Sarah. It's a fair question and I would ask it if I were in his place." After Sarah sat again, he addressed her father. "Sir," he began, calmly. "My only interest in your land is the pleasure of working it, for you and eventually for Sarah. I can no more own it than I can your daughter."

"You don't acknowledge that we own this land?" Reece queried.

"I believe you have legal entitlement to work this land to your purpose. It cannot be owned." When Reece straightened at this statement, Bill held up his hand. "If the earth quakes and swallows your land, can you demand it back as it is yours? If floods wash it away, can you demand the waters return it? If the demon winds strip the land to bare clay, can you ask for it to be put right?"

Reece Gage's hands fell limply to his sides. He felt a twinge of jealousy towards Bill, who understood his land, and his daughter, better than he did. No wonder the ranch was thriving better than ever since these two had begun to work it together. He sank numbly into his chair.

"You have my blessing, Bill. I know that you will care for my daughter and her land with your soul."

"Yes, sir, I will."

He walked around Sarah's stunned father and stopped in front of her. He kneeled on one knee, taking Sarah's left hand in his. From his shirt pocket, he pulled out the pink sapphire and diamond ring. It wasn't large and gaudy, but he'd felt it was perfect – for his perfect lady.

He smiled when he heard Sarah's inhaled breath. "Sarah Elizabeth Gage, would you marry me? Be my life mate?" He held the ring in his right hand.

Unable to stop her tears, Sarah let them flow. "Oh, yes! Nothing would please, and honor, me more."

Gently, with hands more calm than what he felt, he slipped the ring on her left ring finger.

Sarah jumped into Bill's arms, crying for joy. He hugged her tightly, burrowing his face in her hair.

Reece Gage cleared his throat.

The love birds untangled.

"It's so beautiful, Bill." She dried her eyes, but tears of joy continued to spill from them. "It is perfect, so perfect."

"It's a pink sapphire. The other four are diamonds, of course," explained Bill.

"Oh, I've got to show this to grandmother," Sarah exclaimed. She rushed into the parlor.

Bill pulled himself up, listening to Sarah's happy shrieks.

"Not to be nosey, Bill," Reece said. "But, how'd you get a ring like that?" He felt guilty knowing he didn't pay the man enough to buy something like that.

"It cost me eight horses and ten good breeding cattle from my stock on the reservation." Bill looked Reece straight in the eye. "But, I'd have paid any price." He didn't mention the pay check and withdrawal it also took.

"I can see my daughter made a wise choice." Reece put his hand on Bill's shoulder. "And I know you have."

Sarah ran into her father's arms. "I'm so happy, Daddy."

"I can see that, child," Reece said, holding her tightly.

"You'll see." Sarah released her father, keeping his hand in her right hand. She slipped her glowing left hand into Bill's hands. "The ranch will thrive. We'll fill it with children – I want lots of children – to run and play, to respect this land."

That night, as Bill slept serenely on the quilt under the open window in the guest room, a squeaky noise awakened him. Instantly alert, he saw Sarah in the doorway. "Sarah?" He stood as she closed the door and crossed to him.

"Do you normally sleep on the floor?"

"When it's my choice."

"That won't do." Sarah picked up the quilt. Moonlight streaming through the window glinted off the ring on her left hand. Her smile beamed even brighter as she guided her man to the bed.

Bill ended this amazing day in the soft guest bed with the woman that would soon be his wife.


	11. Chapter 11

**Fall 1979, California**

Johnny Gage blinked, brought back to the present when his aunt, Bent Willow – his father's sister – stopped her narration. Being a master storyteller, he found himself so immersed in her story that it was a jolt when she stopped.

"She didn't have lots of children," Johnny added to end the story.

In a quiet voice his aunt answered, "No. Just you."

"And the ranch?" Johnny asked.

"Sold. After they were killed in the car crash nine years after your birth," his aunt stated matter-of-factly.

"Why didn't you tell me their story sooner?" An angry edge crept into Johnny's voice.

"It wasn't the time for telling."

"And now is?"

"Yes."

Johnny stood, paced in his aunt's small kitchen. "You made them sound so happy."

"They were."

"Even when they only had one child?" Johnny's voice softened.

"Your mother, Sarah, was so pleased to have you that more didn't matter."

Johnny just nodded his head, unable to speak. He continued pacing.

"When you looked so much like Bill, your father, Sarah was on top of the world."

Sitting again, Johnny pounded his fist on the table. He only had a few memories of life at the ranch. Mostly the faces were blurred images now. He only had one photo of his parents and it was taken before his birth. Those were the faces his mind attached to the memories, but they didn't fit exactly. Those memories always gave him a warm feeling, even faded as they were now.

Memories of his time on the reservation were bitter. But he now realized that the bitterness was inside of him, tainting his view on everything to do with life on the reservation. He'd hated all of the People, the anthros that came with so many questions, even himself. He recalled lashing out at Chet Kelly the one time when he'd pressed Johnny about living on the reservation. He'd never felt that he'd belonged there. He hadn't understood much after his parents were gone. Now, listening to his aunt tell, in her amazing way, about his parents, he found the bitterness changing to curiosity.

The pain in her nephew's eyes stung Willow. He'd had a great loss. But, loss was part of life. And no one knew that better than her.

"He took her family name. Why?" Johnny asked, his mind replaying the story she'd spun.

Bent Willow smiled. It was healing to ask questions, seeking knowledge that leads to understanding. "That's the way of the People. The men belong to their chosen woman's clan, become part of that clan. That's why it's forbidden to take a mate from your mother's clan. Kinship is too close. The tribe's bloodlines are pure."

"But you sought a man from your mother's clan, right? That's why you were expelled?"

"Yes," Willow sighed. "When I saw how happy my brother was with his chosen woman, I decided to pursue the man of my heart. But, he was a man of the People first and my mother's clan. He spurned me and I was sent out."

"That's not right." The sadness his aunt carried all these years, never seeking another man. To Johnny it just seemed cruel.

"Yes, it is right," she countered. "And I know it is. I went willingly. It's easier to pine here than see him with someone else."

Johnny watched his aunt's face as she answered. It was easy to judge the harshness of her situation from his place and time. He wanted to learn more about what made his aunt turn away, willingly, from everything she'd known and loved. There was a strength there that'd he never thought about or noticed in his pain filled years living amongst his father's People. His People, he supposed.

"What's on your mind, boy?" Willow asked, seeing that Johnny was stewing on something.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Well, I'm a tired old woman. I'm going to bed. You should rest, too." She gathered herself up, shuffled out of the kitchen.

Johnny picked up his jacket, gave his aunt a gentle hug. "Thank you."

She shooed him away, locked the door behind him. She hated stirring up her nephew, but it was the time for telling. He could deal with it all now. With a heavy sigh, she slipped into bed, nodding off to a dreamless sleep.

Unable to sleep, Johnny sat in his apartment, his US atlas open to Oklahoma. His finger sat on Seminole, OK. A couple days drive was all it'd take, he mused. He had time off he could take, a couple of weeks. His finger tapped the map as his plan to reconnect his native roots formed. Like his aunt had said, it was time.


End file.
